Tender

Like the night. A soft velvet expanse.
Reaching through time.
Through misty eyes which open wide.
They devour me.
In a kiss that kills me, over and over.
Yet tenderly I swim down.
Passing jagged words you keep inside.
Released, only to the moon.
As you howl them into nothingness.
For tender is your way.
Sweet bruises of affection which stay,
within us forever.
As we nestle into the tender wings of love.
Slipping into time.

15/12/2018 by Mark Ryan Categories: animals, kiss, love, PoetryTags: affection, animals, art, bruise, kiss, love, moon, night, poem, poetry, space, swan, tender, words 10 Comments